Like many of us, I try to meditate.
Ok, ok, I do meditate. Sometimes. Not as often as I should. Not as long as I should. Also, I fidget a lot while I do it. Sometimes I fall asleep.
Wait. I’m judging. The exact thing you’re not supposed to do. Ever. But especially while meditating.
If you’ve never meditated — even if you’ve just dabbled in it with the apps like Calm or Headspace — you know that it’s exceedingly difficult. Meditation is exercise for your brain. Long, hard, steady-state exercise.
The thing to know is that it’s worth it. Mindfulness works.
Evidence shows that mindfulness has at least moderate benefits for depression, anxiety and even pain and addiction, although more rigorous research on mindfulness is still needed.
As the benefits of mindfulness emerged, the capitalist West did what it does best with any promising new health fad. We monetized the heck out of it. In addition to the aforementioned apps, you can spend thousands on books, courses, retreats and mindfulness merch.
There’s even Transcendental Meditation, or TM, which seems to me to be the Scientology of meditation. TM requires spending big money on a coach, it’s shrouded in secrecy, and has spawned numerous celebrity proselytizers. It likely does do wonders. But you can also learn to meditate for 20 minutes, twice a day, on your own, for free.
The commercialization of mindfulness stands in stark contrast to its Buddhist roots.
Buddhism is a religion of renunciation. The Buddha obtained enlightenment by eschewing all worldly comforts for a life of quiet meditation under a tree.
Buddhist monks take a vow of poverty, typically owning nothing but their robes and a simple bowl for collecting alms.
It doesn’t surprise me that Westerners looked at this profound religion and cherry-picked mindfulness. Embracing other Buddhist teachings like non-attachment, impermanence, generosity, compassion and nonviolence would be too uncomfortable for a society predicated on values that, dare I say, are quite the opposite.
Like most of us, I have no interest in a monastic life. Yet I find the wisdom of Buddhism to be a powerful antidote to the incessant anxieties of modern existence.
Yes, it all begins with being in the present moment. Learning to be present has wonderful benefits by itself. But it’s silly to think that’s where practice ends.
Mindfulness can install both clarity and calm, and it’s the center of any meditation practice. Pair it with Buddhist principles, however, and you can begin to alter how you relate to the world in transformative ways.
If you understand that suffering is an eternal, unavoidable part of existence, it is easier to accept our own pain and feel empathy for (and forgive) others who are also suffering.
If you believe that everything in this world is interconnected — every person, every animal, every star, every drop of water and grain of sand — it may lead you to be more generous and less self-centered.
If you see that everything in this world is impermanent — that nothing lasts forever — it becomes easier to live in the moment and cope with loss.
It’s one thing to read these Buddhist teachings and say “ah, yes, that makes sense.” Only through meditation can you begin to internalize their wisdom and allow them to alter how to unconsciously see and interact with the world.
For me, meditating and reading more and more about Buddhism has helped me heal lifelong traumas and ease depression and anxiety better than any medicine.
Of course, I still crave things I do not have and worry about losing the things I do have. I am still too selfish. And I still have moments of anger and resentment. I have a long way to go.
But when I close my eyes to meditate, I am aware of my breath, I am aware of my body, and I am aware that I am on the path. That is enough.
If you’re curious, too…
I was about 12 years old the first time I remember hearing the word Buddhism. My good friend’s father spent time in India and returned enamored with Eastern philosophy. It seemed quite “out there” at the time.
Later, in college, I heard a lecture by a woman who spent time living in a Buddhist monastery. She talked about taking vows to be vegetarian, to refrain from taking anything not offered (even a smidge of toothpaste) and to not harm any sentient being (even a fly). Lofty ambitious for a guy who loves cheeseburgers and hates bugs, I remember thinking. But I also remember being struck by the obvious wisdom of it all. Of course this is the righteous way to live.
Years later, suffering disillusionment with our “hustle and buy” culture, I picked up some best-sellers: “Wherever You Go, There You Are”, the blockbuster work by psychologist Jon Kabat-Zinn often credited with igniting the mindfulness movement in the west. His Holiness The Dalai Lama’s “The Art of Happiness”. And many works by Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddhist monk who escaped to France from war-torn Vietnam and who has, perhaps, done more than anyone else to bring real Buddhist teachings to the West.
My Buddhist education has continued ever since in starts and stops. A book here, a stint of meditation practice there. Pictured above is a sampling of my collection. They include some of the first books I read and some more advanced ones I’m working through today.
If you’re ever Buddhist curious, like me, I recommenced picking up one (or two). In addition, Buddhism for Beginners is a free online course put out by the Buddhist magazine Tricycle. It is, also, a decent introduction.